Life is Full of Pain, I'm Cruisin' Through My Brain
by badficbilly
Summary: Murdoc gets assaulted in a club. (Phase 1.) (Explicit, Lemon, see A/N for warnings.) (Russel isn't the perpetrator.)
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: **hrm, love some Murdoc Angst in the morning. As to the slang and such...I'm not British but I Tried lol.

**Warnings: **I'm not gonna put these over any of the other chapters, so listen up. This fic contains explicit sexual assault and rape, lack of sex safety (yknow, spit and blood as lube and such), semi-public sex, humiliation, physical violence, homophobic slurs, internalized homophobia, references to past child sexual abuse (and mild ones to physical child abuse), paranoia, and self-hatred and self-destruction.

Also Murdoc is gross and obnoxious as hell, he is a deeply unpleasant man and I refuse to sugar coat that lmfao (though clearly I sympathize with him; tis the point of the fic after all)

* * *

The gents' in the club was about exactly how Murdoc picture it - broken twitching flouresents, those nasty open metal cubicles, most of them with clearly broken doors, carved and scrawled out letters on every surface, deep scratches in the paint on the walls casting shadows in the dim lighting. More you couldn't see, he was certain. The floor was covered in shining liquid and sludge, which he didn't care to identify.

All in all, a perfect shithole.

It more or less it matched the rest of the, ahem, _fine establishment_. He would love to say at least the drinks were cheap, but they were remarkably overpriced given their locale.

Well, whatever. It was nothing to him. He'd seen worse. He'd used worse. Hell, he'd fucked in worse.

Murdoc's shoes make a squelching noise as he walked across the broken tile. He stepped in a particularly wet spot and cursed. Now _that_ was where he drew the line. He'd rather drink whatever was down there than have it stain his cuban heels.

He shook off his shoe, making a disgusted sound. He reached down and wiped it off with his sleeve. Hrm, better.

The lavatory was unoccupied, which was a nice break from the throbbing music and rowdy clubbers. That and his bandmates.

2d was as brainless and irritating as ever, prattling on about gormless nonsense and going after girls Murdoc was chatting up, little bint. All he needed was a vacant smile and some dumbarse comment and the birds were all bloody over him. That dopey, innocent grin... like he didn't know what the fuck he was up to.

That and Murdoc didn't think Russel even touched his drink, just sat in the corner with a scowl on his face, often enough directed at him. Every time he was enjoying himself, he'd look over and Russel's preternatural, milky white eyes would be fixed on him, a disapproving frown below them. The bloke was young but he was stodgy as they came. Couldn't Murdoc have _any_ fun? Fuckin' killjoy.

He was beginning to think he'd never _really_ get to just fucking relish his life, the real start of it, all shiny and new, fame, fortune, and all. Not if he had to drag these bloody sods around the rest of his days.

Murdoc stepped up to a urinal and unzipped his pants. He cut loose and groaned sloppily, his tongue lolling out. The worst part of drinking was the piss, but at least it felt good to get it all out. Life's little pleasures he supposed. If it wasn't such a cockblocker, alcohol really would be the perfect intoxicant. Well it was close enough, wasn't it?

He heard the door open and some blokes walk into to lav behind him. The blaring music followed them - some rubbish pop song with inane and incessantly repeated lyrics and the bass boosted too much - until the door swung shut, and Murdoc twitched. He wasn't really excited to go back out there; the night hadn't been as fun as he thought it'd be. He considered ditching his bandmates and stealing off to a club or bar with a more suitable atmosphere, spending the night there. Hrm. a nice little dive where nobody knew him and that he could drink dry, that might be alright.

Murdoc put his cock away and wiped his hands on his jeans. He walked over to the basins and took a look in the mirrors. He ran his fingers through his mussed hair, fixing the strands here and there. He saw something caught in his teeth and picked it out with a jagged nail. Oh, hrm...speaking of which, 'bout time he spruced up the polish.

He gathered up some saliva and spat into the sink. When he looked up, he saw the men who'd entered before hovering over him.

Oh great. Just what he needed, people who recognized him. Fame was a curse.

He was in too foul a mood to be too friendly, but he'd rather not alienate them, in case they were fans and not some paparazzi wankers. He wiped his mouth on his sleeve, and tried on something of a neutral expression. "Can I help you chaps with anything?"

They didn't respond.

Impatience took over. "What, enjoying the view, are we? Usually that costs, mates."

Still nothing. He didn't like the looks on their faces.

Warning alarms were beginning to blare in his mind. He still had enemies after all. He pissed plenty of people off on the regular, even now.

He eyed the door, then took one last comb through his hair so as not to make it too obvious. He turned and flashed a smile, his heart starting to pound. "Well, best be going, lads. Nights still young an all."

Murdoc stepped perhaps a little too hastily towards the door.

He felt his arm being grabbed, far too tight.

He yelped, which he turned to a growl. "Oi! Bugger off, you ugly bastard!" He drove one of his heels into the man's shoe.

The man shrieked and cursed. He was unhanded, and he took off towards the exit.

He got to it, but that was all he got. He heard a blow rather than felt it, his vision blackening briefly.

When he roused, blinking, he felt the hand around his arm again. Murdoc turned, and there his two attackers stood, leering at him. The door was right behind him, his back pressed against it, but of course, of _course_ it had to swing fucking inwards. What inane tosser thought that one up?

He reached for the handle with his free hand, trying to keep the fear off his face.

The man closest slapped him.

He yelped, his hand going to the assaulted portion of his cheek. "_Fuck!_ You bloody -"

He was smacked again, quite soundly, and pulled from the door. The other man had hold of his other arm. They dragged him into the center of the room.

Fuck. fuck this was bad.

He thought his days of getting roughed up were behind him, but it looked like he was wrong.

He kicked as he was dragged. They both had a few stones on him, and maybe a quarter of a meter each. Their grips were vicelike on his arms. He was sure to have bruises on there later.

He shouted obscenities while he balled his fists, kicking and swinging at whatever he could get at, whatever was nearest. For that he took another blow to the head, and then one to the ribs. He cried out and doubled over. "_Bastards_…" he hissed.

He was yanked towards one of the cubicles. They pulled him in and shut the door.


	2. Interlude

Well well, looks like i made the hall of fame lads. The shitty fic community (blah blah blah i dont remember their title exactly but whatever, an awards an award) has seen fit to place my fic on the throne of trash in reverence. What an honor!

To all my new readers, i hope you enjoy my sins laid bared for you and all your basest reading pleasure ;)

After all, i do have 5 more parts or so coming up. Not bad for a retarded mentally ill piece of shit faggot getting my rocks off on some grubby garbage rape fic and ruining british slang for everyone. (Took a while to pick up enough to butcher btw, so i might be retarded but at least im dedicated yeah?)

Anyway, youre welcome to gawk if you'd like, but stick around; You might discover you like what I'm serving. Either way, viewers are viewers. I dont write fic like this to be seen as _respectable_ after all, and i dont expect it lol

Oh and to GadNud or whatever (im too lazy to check what your name was)...thank you for your comment! A whole minific in itself really! Too bad you lack the creativity or intelligence to actually go and write something, cause with that dedication you TOO could have put a nasty rape fic or a charming torture porn drabble into the world. But instead you graced _my_ inbox! So perhaps i shouldn't complain.

Still, i feel your comment lacked specificity. Was murdoc out of character? Did i misuse the word tosser again?

Oh wait. You didnt read it. You just strung a few offensive sentences together hoping id be offended or feel bad. But hun. Hun. Ive gotten anonymous messages telling me to kill myself every day since i was a teen. Git gud lol. All that work and you dont even have the talent to make me feel bad. If you had anything in that skull besides a pile of molding squirrel carcasses, youd actually read the fic and find something to insult me that would actually make my lip tremble. Go on, read it over and hit me where it REALLY hurts.

Oh but you wouldnt. You probably send that exact comment out to every fic you target. Mingebag. You dont have the sophistication.

Lets dissect you though, shall we? Judging by your lengthy and very uncreative comment?

Well maybe ill dedicate abother chapter to combing it over bit by bit (it is so _bloody_ long and so generic i forgot most of it). If im not lazy. But i can tell you what it says about you.

You know your life is directionless. You know you dont fit into anything. You know things are bad but you don't know how to fix them. You feel pathetic. You kind of are, harassing people on ffnet lol (get a twitter or a tumblr or a reddit like a REAL cyberbully lmfao).

Maybe something happened to you. Maybe life's fuck you over thoroughly. You probably dont have anyone there for you. Maybe you like to drink. I sure do. What do you like? What brand? Im not picky, but ive been getting a lot of discount vodka in me these days.

I mean its possible youre just some entitled rich fuck living it up in some dorm room at a fancy school, high on amphetamines and expensive alcohol, picking away at your keyboard for fun. Entitlement does funny things to someone. So maybe.

You know, maybe nothing bad has ever happened to you in your whole life.

But i doubt it.

Because i know your type. I AM your type.

Why do you think i write nasty fics about people getting raped in bathrooms? Some people do it for fun im sure. Some people do it because they think it might be a thrill probably. Maybe its never happened to them. Maybe they think it has some kind of merit regardless. Maybe they're just horny as hell. All valid in my opinion. fic is fic. art is art. you do you.

But thats not it for me. Because if it wasnt for this, i think id rip myself apart, or go and find someone else to do the same to, one way or another.

Just like you.

So really. We're the same. I want people to read something that hurts them and that stays with them. You want that dont you? But you dont understand the core of people yet. Not enough to really cut them to the quick. Because insulting them like some brainless monkey at a keyboard does nothing. It did nothing to me all in all. Im going to write this and go right back to posting chapters. All it made me do is have a laugh at your expense while i spread out to part of your brain you so kindly gifted me and pick through it.

you expose your heart when you write, no matter what it is. You think youre protected by anonymity and degrading language and slurs and whatnot. But youre not. I see you. I see _into_ you. You think this will make you feel better. Maybe it does. But it wont fill you up no matter who you are or why you do it. Few things do. But it doesnt even come close.

All youve done is give me another notch in my belt, another trophy on my wall. And ive seen a scrap of your bent up soul for a blitzing second. You showed me your play. And i found it wanting.

I would recommend you stop this pathetic rubbish and get help. Doubt you will. Doubt this'll be your push. You may not even read this...well to be fair i only skimmed your comment. But maybe you should think about writing something and posting it on here. Or focusing on that if you already do. Because right now people dont care about what you have to say. They arent hurt, theyre embarrassed_...for_ _you_. Im giving you attention as a courtesy. Its easy enough to delete your comment and block you, or remake my fic.

But if you spin a good enough yarn you can make people suffer well enough. Make people feel bad about everything, all of life itself. And they'll thank you for it.

Because i know how it feels to want to hurt people. And writing about it always helps me. Clearly. It doesnt fill me up, but a vodka and a smoke and a fanfiction where a cartoon character gets fucked in a public restroom seems to numb it all out a bit, stops me from lashing out at the nearest idiot. And sometimes i even get attention and praise. Or petty garbage comments like yours (which i still more or less count as attention and praise lmfao).

So i dont know. Maybe you could try that. Itd be more worth your time than struggling to spell slurs and tossing them at me hoping they'll stick.

Take care, fuckhead

P.S. my icon is a classical painting of a skull, can you not see? You think thats vulgar? Twit. Tough to make out stuff on the screen with your own dick in your eye maybe?


	3. Chapter 2

Murdoc struggled. The close quarters meant he could get at them better. " Piss off , dickheads! Soddin mingebags! Plug-ugly arsemongers!"

Unfortunately, it meant they could get at him better too. He took another punch to the gut, and then to the ribs. He wheezed, doubling over.

The bigger one got behind him and grabbed him by the upper arms, holding him in place. He kicked around, shrieking obscenities. He took another blow to the back of the head for his troubles.

"Shut up. Mangey piece of shit." The big man growled.

"My my, look at him. What a temper the little blighter has." the other one said, a nasty smile pulling at his lips.

Murdoc snarled and tried to kick him.

The man laughed at him. bloody_ laughed._ Arsehole. Piece of shit.

Out of nowhere he backhanded Murdoc. Murdoc reeled, and then growled at him like a cornered animal that'd just been struck.

_Do you know who the bloody hell i am?!_ He wanted to snap, but he held his tongue. If they didn't know, it would probably make things worse, and if they did it wouldn't do to remind them if he didn't have to.

He settled for the growl. "Soddin piss-faced cunt."

The man ignored him, though he seemed to be amused at his reaction. He looked over Murdoc to his friend.

"Can you hold him steady, mate? Squirmy little bugger. It'll spoil the shot."

The one that was speaking took out a camera and Murdoc just about rolled his eyes. "There are easier ways to get my photograph, you mad sadistic fucks!"

The smaller man with the blond hair, the one clutching the camera, grinned. Murdoc thoroughly did not enjoy that grin. "Not the kind we want, mate."

The other one held him tighter, bruisingly so, and a flash went off. Murdoc blinked. "Alright, you've had your soddin' picture now…"

The wannabe photographer put back his camera, still with that nasty look in his eye.

He reached out and ran his fingers up Murdoc's thigh.

Murdoc's blood ran cold.

"Ge….get your soddin hands off me." he said, though it lacked the punch of his previous protests.

The man's hand settled on his crotch, gripping his cock through it. Not hard enough to hurt, but he still had his fingers wrapped around it. Murdoc felt chills running through his spine. He twisted, kicking out. "Get off me! Tosser! Bastard! _Piss the fuck off…_!"

The man punched him square in the eye. Murdoc's vision glitched, his head spun.

The man wedged himself closer, hissing. "Don't you try that again, now." He grabbed Murdoc's cock through his pants again and squeezed .

Murdoc shrieked, his heels clicking on the floor as he flailed. "Alright, alright, fuck,_ shit… _" he tried to push him off futily. "Point taken, _point taken aahhah …"_

The blond man released him, and he curled in on himself, his hands on his groin, biting his lip and groaning. "oi... _ffffuck_ …"

The man's shoved Murdoc's hands aside, his fingers returned to Murdoc's cock. Murdoc flinched, but the touch was gentler. The man was stroking it through the denim, which made Murdoc twitch in discomfort. His dick was still sore and throbbing, but he wasn't exactly enjoying the contact regardless.

The two men seemed to be enjoying his reaction, leering at him with rapt interest. The one stroking him kept at it, and then suddenly gave Murdoc's bell-end a flick. He yelped and jumped. They both seemed to find that very amusing.

The two of them unfastened Murdoc's belt. His stomach churned, fear crawling through his nerves. Having his belt undone held a plethora of new directions this situation could head, not a single one of them good at all.

Before he could dwell on it for too long, the one that had been fondling him stuffed his hand down Murdoc's trousers. Trousers _and_ pants. Murdoc made such a pathetic noise, one of both discomfort and fright. Shame spread through him. He shouldn't be giving them the satisfaction. He...shouldn't be afraid. Really was pathetic. He'd been pawed at plenty of times, right?

Never held down. And in his pants. In a private place...no one around...when it was in public it was usually kept to a one and done...

He felt the bastard's fingers all over his cock and his balls, tangled in his pubes. His digits were cold, and none too gentle. The man rifled around in there like he was rooting through a linen drawer.

Murdoc squirmed, wishing he could just push the fucker off. He hoped he'd get bored soon. He hoped they both would.

"Having fun are we?" He muttered, wincing. "enjoying ourselves, are we? You...you like holding blokes down so they can't get a proper swing at ya and playing with their bits? that give you a _thrill_?"

"Shut it." the man scowled.

"Why so defensive, eh? I'm not the one molesting a chap in the loo." He glanced up at the brute behind him. "With your mate, eh? Sounds a bit, _ahh_," he whimpered, grimacing, practically on his heels as he tried to pull away. "Sounds a bit _faggy_, don't it…?"

The man slapped him again. Right across his bruised eye.

Murdoc yelped, gritting his teeth. "you could just _ask_ y'know...Not _me_," he said, perhaps a bit too quickly, "but there's plentya blokes who'd do this _willingly_… maybe not in a grubby toilet neither...'d be a lot nicer... _easier_ I'd say…"

The man growled. "Well, maybe i want _you,_ eh? Niccals?"

Murdoc felt a twist in his gut. So they did know who he was. That was part of the thrill, he was sure.

The man unzipped Murdoc's trousers and pulled out his cock. A shiver ran through Murdoc's body. This was no longer just a feel up, and his fear surged.

The man held his dick and ball bag in his hand in a firm grip, and began rolling them back and forth mildly, looking them over. Murdoc grimaced. It wasn't just that he was still sore down there; there was something harrowing and degrading about a stranger holding your cock and balls in his grimy fingers, not being sure what he might do, as he examined them like bruised discount fruit at the supermarket.

"Hrm, not all that big really is it?" the man said.

Both men laughed.

Murdoc scowled. "Piss off! Its_ plenty_ big and I do just bloody fine with it! Clearly it caught _your_ interest eh?"

The man in front of him scoffed, continuing to handle the cock in his hand aimlessly, seemingly for no other reason than his own amusement. It certainly wasn't a pleasant feeling for Murdoc, though he could feel the blasted thing hardening a bit anyway. Curse it all.

Murdoc ground his teeth, trying to tune out the sensation of clammy fingers kneading his tackle. "You wankers done yet? You...you get your fun in yet? You talk an awful lot 'bout disappointment when it comes to my knob when you seem to be enjoying it oh so_ verrry much_…" he purred the last part, eager to throw just about anything he could think of back in their faces.

The man ran his finger over the tip of his cock and Murdoc felt it twitch, his own body betraying him.

"Seems like you're liking this too, eh?_ Chap_?"

Murdoc squirmed. "Well you're _shit_ at this, I hope you know."

"You _would_ know, i'm sure."

"Well it don't take a genius, its _my_ cock in yer hand!"

The man squeezed again. Not as hard as before, but hard enough to remind Murdoc he could, and he might.

Murdoc was sure his face was betraying him too. He keeled, his hand going to the man's wrist. " Alright mate, _alright alright_...go easy on that now…i'd like to_ keep it_ afterwards…"

the pressure released. Murdoc gasped.

He heard a click and another flash blinded him.

Shit, really? Fuckin' really? He'd had his cock out on film before, he shouldn't be ashamed, but...that was different! He'd wanted that! And some strange...it was in some fucker's grimey, manky fingers! Some bloke…

Fuck. He hoped...they...they wouldn't…

"Oh blackmail, hrm? That what this is?" he growled. "You want my money, is that it?"

They both laughed. The man who'd been taking charge gave him a look he couldn't place. He didn't like it though. Not at all.

"Dunno." The bastard said idly. "might."

Murdoc's heart skipped. "what..._what's that supposed to bloody mean_?!"

The man sneered.

Murdoc's mind raced. "You gonna have a wank to it later?! Is that the idea?! You really are bloody queers, you just won't _fucking admit it_!"

He wheezed again as he was punched in the gut.

"Look who's bloody talking, eh?" the man behind him said.

"Get bent," Murdoc rasped.

They both laughed again. Murdoc's skin crawled.

The other man leaned in. Murdoc felt his spit on his face. "Maybe we'll just spread em 'round, eh? Might be good fun, this getting out. Showin' you off."

Murdoc stopped. His head reeled.

They didn't want anything. They didn't want anything. Anything but to hurt him...to _humiliate him_…

Something inside him snapped.

He snarled and drove his head into the man's face. It hurt, and made his already sore head ache and his vision dance, but the fuckhead squealed and it was satisfying .

Murdoc leaned over and bit the man holding him. He howled too. Murdoc kicked him, and then the other man when he came after him. He kicked him as hard as he could, as many times as he could get in.

He slipped through the bigger man's grip.

He thought about running off for a split second. How much did he care about his dignity or reputation anyway? Not in the face of survival …

...Right.

He jumped at the bastard who'd felt him up, dipping his hand into his pocket. He felt the camera in his fingers and yanked it out.

He didn't have time to think before he felt a hand on the side of his head. He didn't have time to cry out before he was slammed into the side of the cubicle. His vision fritzed. He slid down the metal, twitching.

His world spun around him. Shadows and flickering, dim, pale light and wet ...his stomach pitched.

He felt himself being dragged up. No, no no…

Fuck... fuck…

He fought through the fog and the ringing and kicked out. No, no , FUCK

He felt something around his throat and suddenly his feet weren't on the floor. He gagged, his hands grasping clumsily at whatever held him. Eventually, the fight faded from him, and his world started going black.

Abruptly, the pressure released and he inhaled deeply. His head ached. Ached and ached. Throbbed and burned. His brain felt like it was tossing around in his skull. Probably was. That's how it worked, right?

He moaned. His heels were on the floor again, that much he did know.

He felt so bloody cold.


	4. Chapter 3

Murdoc roused with a sharp pain in his head. And then on his face. He realized blurrily he was being slapped again. And maybe again.

He blinked, slightly less dazed. The man in front of him was saying something, and looked rather pissed, but Murdoc's ears were still ringing. There was something weighing on his neck. He reached up to pull at it and found it wouldn't budge.

He blinked again.

"...you _sodding minger _! Thought you could get out of this?"

Murdoc was slapped again, and this time he felt it.

Everything was still hazey, but he managed to find a way to look the fucker in the eye. He spat in it.

That earned him another punch to the face. That wasn't doing anything good for his head, sending his vision dancing again. Then he was punched in the gut, multiple times, until he made a wretched, pained noise.

"C'mon, lay off." He heard the man behind him say. "Thought you wanted him _conscious… _"

Murdoc realized suddenly the thing around his neck was the big bloke's arm, that he was in a headlock, and his feet were only just barely touching the floor. Fuck.

The man before him snorted. "I guess I'd prefer it if he squirmed a bit."

He grabbed Murdoc by the hair, wrenching his head up. "Don't fuck with us like that again. We'll beat you bloody."

_"Do it." _He rasped, wincing. "Do it and see if I'll be awake for whatever it is you want out of me."

He swallowed. He wasn't thinking very clearly right now, but some kind of dread was clawing at his gut, slowly tearing it from the inside out. Maybe it was the fact that his brain was still knocking around, but he just couldn't figure out why, and that made it all worse.

He heard them laugh again. The blond man glanced at his friend, smirking, like they were both privy to a secret Murdoc wasn't in on. He stomach tied itself into knots.

The man pressed his knee into Murdoc's cock and he realized it was still out. Squirm he did, and howl too, until the arm around his neck constricted again.

They finally let up and he breathed raggedly, grimacing. "What are you trying to _do _here, _castrate _me?"

The man returned to fondling his bollocks again, rubbing one side in slow circles. "Dunno. Would it cut down on that aggression of yours?"

Murdoc's upper lip curled. A feral rage coursed through him. But so did sickness and humiliation, and a rapidly mounting _fear _.

The touch was repulsive, and degrading, but again he found his body responding, which simply added to the degradation. He knew better than to try and get out of this though. Could these cunts not just be _finished _with all this?

"Can you get on with it already?" He said tersely, his fear mingling with frustration. "Are you just gonna stand there with a fistful of cock, or are ya gonna give me it back?" His lip twitched. "Or are ya gonna try'n get me off, _luv _?"

Neither of them said anything. Murdoc managed to sneer.

"So this is just what you like, eh? Standing round and gripping a dick in a lav cubicle? You coulda achieved that _complicated_ activity_ all by yourself_, _knobhead_!"

More silence, like he hadn't spoken. Like wasn't in the room at all.

Murdoc had finally had enough. His hands free, he reached out and tried to push him off.

"Well don't just stand there, make up your _goddamned_ _mind_ already! Or maybe you oughta call it a day and let me _be_, you've had your _fun_, you mad soddin cunt!"

The man leaned in, sneering. "Oh but I _have _made my mind up _. _This was always just the _appetizer,_ mate."

Murdoc felt himself surge with desperate, wild fury. He growled like a rabid dog and thrashed at his attackers. He remembered his hands were free and drove a fist into the side of the cunt's stupid fucking head.

The tosser shrieked, stumbling back a bit. He hissed, clutching his temple and pitching obscenities Murdoc's way.

The man behind him grabbed the offending hand by the wrist and twisted it into a painful position.

That made Murdoc whimper, and he went still. It was all on instinct, and he knew a beat later was a mistake.

The man pushed himself off the side of the cubicle, his leering smile returned to his face.

"Oh that's _right _you think you're some typa bloody musician, yeah?"

The bigger man squeezed his wrist and Murdoc cried out. Terror, real terror swept through him.

No no nonono…he couldn't lose that, not _that _…

A life without his band, without being able to _play _, flashed through his brain. He'd always had that. Even when life hurt so bad he'd wish he'd never been born, he'd still had that.

"Alright alright _alright," _he wailed. Tears sprang to his eyes. "I'll _behave _, I promise, I'll…"

_I'll let you do whatever you'd_ _like, i won't even fight back_. That was really what he was saying. He just couldn't bring himself to say it.

He whimpered. "C'mon, _c'mon…I swear it, _I will, I _will _..."

The pressure relaxed. He felt something wet slide down his cheeks. No, no he wasn't crying...he didn't _cry_...not _in_ _front_ of anyone, not _now_...

Abruptly, he felt a pat on his cheek, which made him flinch. "There now, there's a good boy." The man purred.

Somehow, that felt worse than anything prior. Finally, _finally _, he realized there could be more done to him than all the disgusting and painful and humiliating things he'd been subjected to before now. _Finally, _after _all this _, he realized there would be.

The blond bloke, the sadistic fuck, yanked down Murdocs trousers and pants, all the way down to his ankles.

Murdoc recoiled. The tears renewed themselves. He tried desperately to quell them.

He didn't want to believe it before. That this was where it was heading.

He felt like he was nine again. Small. Pliable. Too bloody _stupid _to see it coming.

He distantly heard a click of a camera, saw a flash through his eyelids.

"Rather nice one." He heard a voice say. "Best so far I'd say."

Murdoc opened his eyes, just in time to watch the bastard take out his cock, and spit in his hand. He started stroking it, eyeing Murdoc all the while.

"I do like this you know."The man's voice hitched, saliva glistening on his teeth. "You asked before and you're right. Does give me a thrill." He breathed in deep, arousal overtaking his face.

Murdoc said nothing, biting his lip. His eyes wandered to the ceiling. He didn't know if it was worse to watch the man play with himself, stiffening up his cock, or simply listen to the wet, slick sound of it over the faint club music, and give himself space to imagine what was going to be done with it.

He felt somewhat sharper breath on the back of his head, and something hard press into the back of his thigh, and realized the man clutching him was enjoying all this too. He tried to tune it out.

The blond man stopped playing with himself, spat generously into his palm, and ran it over his dick again a few times. He leaned closer and wrapped his still slimey digits around Murdoc's thighs and hauled them over his shoulders.

The sensation of his heels leaving the ground and his body pitching sent a new wave of helplessness and humiliation coursing through him. He was pulled into an uncomfortable position with the edge of his heels sitting on the small of the man's back. His legs didn't bend all that far, held captive by the so very tight jeans pooled around his ankles, but enough to spread him out.

The man spat into his hand one last time and brought his cock into position.

The creeping horror had finally settled in his gut, like some living thing twisting around inside him. That was it. That couldn't be it. That'd hurt them both that couldn't -

"I've got lube," he said. His voice was soft and desperate and submissive, but he didnt care. He was so beyond caring. "I've got...its in my pocket, look, it's right there if… if you'd just give it a look…" it wasn't much and it wasn't exactly thick enough for this sort of thing, but it was better than, fuck than _saliva, _and not much of it, practically nothing at all really.

He knew how it felt to have things shoved in there dry, and even somewhat gently it wasn't an experience he was eager to repeat. And he highly doubted this would be any approximation of gentle.

The look on the man's face was cruel and hungry. He didn't even make eye contact, his gaze drifting all over Murdoc's prone body.

Murdoc gripped the arm around his neck. "Please just...it wouldn't be much trouble…its right bloody there if you just…"

His thighs were spread more.

"You bloody bastard," he choked out. "this won't be pleasant for _you _, I can guarantee it you _stupid fucking piece of shit..." _his leg kicked involuntarily, which earned him more pressure on his wrist. He could feel the bones rub together painfully and he clenched his jaw, going still, and then limp.

The man gripped his thighs and pulled him flush. Murdoc felt his breath on him.

Murdoc's voice drew into a warble. The panic was obvious and it stung, but the fear was shutting out any measure of dignity or pride he had left.

'there's no need for this...it just...its right there and you...you don't need to do this...its just there in my pocket…" his fingers dug into the arm on his throat. He shut his eyes. "Please_ . _" He whispered. " _Please _," louder, shriller. Something of a sob. " _c'mon _just…"

He wasn't sure if it was the anticipation of pain or just the dawning horror that this was happening at all and he couldn't stop it. That he had no control over it, not even a little.

The man finally locked eyes with him. His smile was very cold. His unnervingly straight white teeth shone in the dim fluorescent light.

"Well _I _think it's enough." He glanced at his friend. "Don't you think it's enough?"

Murdoc felt his friend shrug behind him. "Only one way to find out."

He felt some stiff, slick thing slide over his thigh, and rub against his perineum.

Then that hard cock was shoved into him.

He wailed. The arm around his neck tightened and so did the grip on his wrist, but he couldn't help it.

Fuck it hurt. Fucking shit, it bloody hurt. It burned like an open flame. His legs trembled madly.

"Weak piece of shit...can you shut him up?" The man inside of him said to his friend, more annoyed than anything. Annoyed. Like it didn't matter to him what he was doing at all.

Murdoc's neck was constricted further, his head beginning to spin. He felt himself get limper and some part of him, some ancient quiet horrible little part of him his resolve was too thin to suppress, whispered _don't fight it…wait it out, you can do it...relax and it'll all be over soon enough... _

The grip around his throat loosened. He inhaled. His world was still a bit fuzzy around the edges, his arms hanging at his side.

"Don't scream again, you weepy fucking faggot," he heard distantly. "you'll fucking regret it."

Another shove into his arsehole dragged Murdoc out of his haze. He let out a strangled cry, more of a whimper than anything, but he had the presence of mind to drive his crooked, sharp teeth into his lower lip and bite it back, keep it from growing.

"Not bad." The man said. "Looks like you were a bit right there you whiny slag, is kinda wedged in there. Getting traction for a bits gonna be rough. But that's what blood's for, ain't it?" He gripped Murdoc's hip. "Fuck though, you're nice and tight…"

The man drew back, dragging his cock with him.

Murdoc wailed through his teeth. He let out a broken, quiet sob, and closed his eyes.

Murdoc felt tears run down his cheek. He told himself it was the pain. That was at least half of it anyway.


End file.
